


La Toile de la Veuve

by CosmicMailman



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Reader-Insert, Smut, really just a circus going on here, theres a lot of firsts happening here so be nice to me i tried
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11156955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicMailman/pseuds/CosmicMailman
Summary: Jack has you working with the Widow. Angela thinks you're getting too close. The Widow wants you to get closer





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wanna say this is some different universe than the whole widow/ana thing just so that Pharah isnt sad :2  
> other than that, have fun

     You had been making progress with Lacroix at an astonishing rate. Overwatch had gotten word of a Talon operation and miraculously was able to put a stop to the scheme, and caught itself a pivotal trophy along the way. The Widowmaker, the agents called her. Overwatch quickly set out to reverse the cruel effects of her training in hopes of restoring the prized sniper to a better, less evil, version of herself. As Overwatch’s only on-duty psychiatrist, you worked very closely with the assassin, providing emotional therapy sessions to recalibrate her limbic system, while Dr. Angela Ziegler worked alongside you, focusing on more physical aspects of the affliction: trying to kickstart her autonomic nervous system. You and Lacroix had just finished an impromptu session and you were walking her back to her housing on the base.

     “Will you come into my room? I have something I would like to show you.” Lacroix didn't turn her head as she spoke. Her hair continued to bounce gracefully as she sashayed down the hallway in front of you. You shook your head and tried to remind yourself to stop staring. What she was asking was absolutely unorthodox, and probably against a number of security rules. You found yourself agreeing despite all better judgments. You would never admit it, as it was extremely unprofessional, but you were crushing hard on the femme fatale.

     “Morrison has you set up pretty nice,” you said, trying to mask your nerves as you entered. Your eyes swept over the glossy hotel room-like cell; the only thing giving away that Lacroix was a prisoner was the barred window on the far wall. You knew it led to a faux yard within the facility, but it simulated just a taste of freedom for her. She shut the door soundlessly behind you, and you felt a cold sweat start up your spine. Your thumb swept mindfully over the panic button you were required to carry while she was in your charge. She shouldn't have any weapons, but the blue-tinted woman was a skilled assassin, and your throat tightened thinking of how many ways she could kill you with her bare hands before the button would trigger the shock chip in her neck and incapacitate her. You swallowed hard and sucked in a breath.

     “What did you want to show me?” you asked, trying to lean casually against the wall.

     “I wanted to thank you.” Her answer took you by surprise. 

     “There’s no need to-” you stuttered as Lacroix stepped toward you.

     “No, really. I really feel like I’m improving. And I want to thank you for the work you've done.” She was close enough for you to see her long neck pulse faintly. Your breath caught in your throat.

     “It's just… doin' my job,” you chuckled awkwardly, looking away. Lacroix was very close now. Every muscle in your hand tensed over the panic button. She put a hand on the wall near your head and you blushed at the  _ thump _ as you lurched your back against the flat surface. She was leaning over you so you had no choice but to stare into her golden eyes and hope for the best. A surprise shock would surely revert all of the progress the two of you had made, perhaps permanently. It was crucial for you to keep your cool.

     “Drop the button,” Lacroix whispered, and the power in her eyes had you sliding against the wall to place it on the desk across from you without protest. Guess it wouldn't have been a surprise. You barely had time to wonder how she knew about the concealed device before she leaned into your ear.

     “I've seen how you look at me,” the assassin breathed. Your heart dropped into your stomach. She’d noticed. You could have sworn she was  _ appraising _ you as her eyes swept across your face and chest. “They all do, I am used to it,” she added before you could protest. “But always men, never a woman before. You intrigue me. I want to thank you by giving you a taste of what you want.” 

     Your cheeks were hot. Your  _ everything _ was hot. You stared dumbly back at her. There was no way this was really happening. She cocked an eyebrow, then released you and stepped back. It took a minute for your brain to fully process her words.

     “Amélie, I ...appreciate your offer but… your continued improvements are really all the thanks I need... I-” she sat on her bed and tilted her head at you. God, you wanted her bad. Morrison had you so busy that you hadn’t been on a date since you joined Overwatch full time a few years ago. That didn’t excuse you. She smiled a Chesire smile as you inched towards the door.

     “Désolé, but you are stuck here.The door locks after dark,” Lacroix crossed her long  _ long _ legs, leaning back so her breasts were pushed forward. You compulsively pulled at your collar, having trouble parsing the situation.

     “I… they… I need to clock out…”

     “Non? You said this was your day off.” You stopped your inching movements short as you remembered you obliged her a chat as you passed by on your way out, after forgetting your bag in your office from the night before.

     “Listen, I… our working relationship has developed really well… I don’t want to… make it weird, you know?” It was hard to breathe. You tried to get yourself to stop looking at her svelte body, her gracefully long neck, her sharply defined collar bones just visible under a button up blouse. She shook her head.

     “Not weird at all. I’ve… well, I’ve been thinking about this for a time now. Not to be morbid, but when the men who end up with me aren’t given what they want, they take it. You haven’t. You really seem different than them. I want to see just how far that feeling holds true. Call it an experiment. It can be for both of us. Maybe you can write a report for Ziegler,” she smiled, twirling her hair pointedly.

     “Amélie, I… I'm really flattered that you would open up to me like this, but… I wouldn't… be comfortable … it's not professional if you and I-”

     “Moi  _ et _ toi?” Lacroix giggled cruelly. “No. You misread me.” Your mouth opened to ask 20 questions at once, but no sound came out as she gracefully unfolded her legs, spreading them immorally far apart. Something was buzzing in your core and you felt yourself getting wet just at the sight. You couldn’t even see that far up her skirt, but you knew your cheeks must have been bright red. 

     “I said I was offering  _ you  _ a  _ taste _ .” Your mouth hung open as you considered your options. You weren’t expected to be anywhere near Lacroix until tomorrow afternoon, so no one knew you were trapped in her room. You could pound on the door and pray someone would hear, but it was after hours and guards were few and far between. You could spend a night awkwardly sitting in a desk chair across the room from a sloughed assassin, afraid to close your eyes. You looked momentarily to the bed. How this boded for Lacroix’s therapy, your mind was too clouded to be sure. It _ could  _ lead to a breakthrough, you guessed.  _ But if anyone found out....  _ You could very easily sneak out when the door opened at 7.  _ Too easily. _ You looked back at the woman and your stomach flipped as you saw she was sliding her panties down her thighs, over her knees, past her shins, and if it weren't for your absolute state of shock you would have jumped as they hit you square in the face. You blinked hard and got on your knees.

     The carpet was so tamped down that your knees popped as you shuffled close to Lacroix. You could smell her, though the feature of interest was obscured in shadow. You looked up at her. She had a blank, almost bored expression on her face. It embarrassed you that she’d done this so often before, yet you were undeniably flattered that she had asked you and you weren’t forcing her into this under duress. You huffed a breath, still trying to erase your discretions.  _ This is what Amélie wants, _ you thought,  _ and so what if it’s what I want too? _

     Noticing your hesitation, Lacroix reached down and pulled her skirt up for you, revealing dark curls that had your head clouding all over again.

     “Go on, it will not bother me. I haven’t minded attentions since, well...” she breathed, getting impatient. You were still just staring.

     “I….” You had one last reservation, a vague thought of professional repercussions. As soon as you looked up at her, she rolled her eyes, smiling a little, then placed her hands on the back of your head and pushed you into her. You swallowed hard, lips meeting soft, thick hair. It was too late to back down now. Not that you would have ever wanted to. You parted her tentatively. She was cool to the touch, her corpse-like pallor still an anomaly to Dr. Ziegler. You felt her hands, still on the back of your head, tense in anticipation, which came across as sort of an odd reaction for her character, but you’d made her wait long enough, so you dove in.

     You heard her suck in a breath as soon as your tongue hit her clit. You started slowly, lapping lightly just to test the waters, switching to long, slow licks as you built her up. Her thighs tensed and she affected an odd breathing pattern. She was really into it, but you could tell she was trying to hide it. You ground your tongue harder against her. You wanted to draw her out of her shell. You started to taste her slick and dipped to lick her slit. 

     The long whimper that drew out of her mouth surprised you both. You paused, looking up to see if something was wrong. She was biting her lip and staring at the ceiling to hide her face, but she grabbed your ears and pulled you right back in. You attended her with new vigor, working her back up after the slight pause. She took her hands off your head, realizing she was starting to bunch her fingers in your hair, as you reached your other hand up to grab onto her ass for more leverage. You dipped your head once again, and in the midst of licking up her slick, slid your tongue into her as deep as you could. You smiled as her hips canted toward you.

     “Merde,” you heard from under her breath as you employed your teeth against her nub for a moment. You glanced up at her as you dragged your tongue along a rough patch and saw that she cupped her breasts outside of her shirt, her thumbs working lightly over erect nipples. You felt a sharp spark of arousal in your core. You were practically dripping at this point, and could say about the same for her. You suddenly got an idea. A  _ hmph _ of protest came from Lacroix as you released her ass, followed by a gasp of shock as you slipped two fingers past where your tongue couldn’t reach.

     “Merde!” she said again, and you laughed. Suddenly you had her knees resting on your shoulders, and she was lying on the bed, an arm across her face. You paused.

     “N’arr ê te pas!” she snapped at you, locking her ankles behind your back. You shrugged and started to slowly pump your fingers. Lacroix gripped the sheets with one hand like she was about to float away, her other hand sheepishly sliding up under her shirt. Your fingers hastened, feeling her soft walls tense around you, listening to the sound her slick made as it started to spread onto your hand. You positioned your thumb to see-saw over her nub and her hips lurched up to meet the sensation.

     “Elle mouille,” you said to her, trying to joke as you felt she might be taking you a little too hard. As reprimand, she pressed her heels into your back, but otherwise, she was down for the count, hiccuping out mewls as you worked her. She was having trouble keeping her hips from bucking, and you were doing nothing to discourage that, turning your head to bite softly at her inner thigh as you crooked your fingers. Your own clit was pulsing with delight at her reaction.

     According to Dr. Ziegler’s research, at her current point in reprogramming, she could have felt physical pleasure, but only detachedly, possibly just as a dull sensation, nothing to sneeze over. Which matched what she said about her past, why she was so level headed about asking you to do this. It seemed incongruous that now she would be flattened out on the bed, squeezing her thighs around your head and playing with herself, panting your name just above a whisper. You weren’t inclined to question it. Her ecstatic writhing was ramping up to its zenith fast, so you turned your head back, tongue replacing thumb. You had to shift yourself to get the full breadth of draw for pumping your fingers deep into her, and in the midst slung an arm over her hips, dragging fingers down her cool stomach, feeling the tensed muscles twitching to try and keep herself under control. You closed your lips over her nub and sucked once.

     She slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the scream. You exchanged speed for pressure, pulling slow and hard with your fingers as you sucked again. She fully arched her back, twitching around you.

     “If you keep-” she tried to speak but traded words for a tremored gasp as you ran the flat of your tongue against her before one more hard suck. 

     She came apart. It surprised you both. You pumped your hand fast again, doing your best to ride her through it, but she was largely self-sufficient, finally letting her hips rock against you at full force. It was all you could do to grab her hipbone with your free hand just to steady yourself as her thighs strained tight around your head. Her orgasm had hit her too hard to make a sound, but you let out an unintentional bleat of bottled up arousal as her heels dug into your back. Her convulsions died down and she lowered her back down to the bed again, her thighs becoming limp, dead weights on your shoulders. Her walls were still pulsing around your fingers as you slid out, bringing your hand to your mouth to clean up. 

     She lay staring at the ceiling, breath hard, eyes wide, body lightly twitching at irregular intervals. You smiled. Then you frowned. You weren't sure what was next. The bed was only a twin, and she was splayed in the center. Then there was the matter of the throbbing between your own thighs. You didn’t mind if she was done- she’d clearly laid out her expectations- but you couldn’t  _ not  _ ride out this high. You could probably finish yourself off quick enough in the bathroom-

     “Come here,” Amélie suddenly said. She still hadn’t moved. You gingerly climbed onto the bed, holding yourself on hands and knees over her supine form. Face to face, her eyes seemed unfocused. You were just reaching to brush her hair behind her ear when she grabbed your arms and pulled you under her.

     “Woah, hey, what are you doing?” you asked as she flipped you over. She was strong, her body that of a dancer and a trained killer. You turned to jelly under her touch. As the moonlight hit her face you could see her cheeks were just barely flushed.

     “I wasn’t planning on this,” Lacroix panted. A look you'd never seen before had crept into her eyes. It was genuine. It was hungry.

     “On what, exactly?” you asked nervously as she reached for your neck. A distant part of your conscious feared for your life. She started to undo your buttons. You could have pushed her off at that moment if you’d wanted a fighting chance, if she’d shown malice, but you were far too aroused to keep her from straddling your hips, fingers unintentionally teasing skin as she made her way to the last button. She pushed the fabric to the sides of your body, running cool fingers along your collarbone. Heat spilled down your spine. A snap of your bra strap drove you insane, your back already arching, your body begging to be touched. She showed no expression on her face, her eyes seemed occupied, but she helped you get your arms out of your sleeves. As you sat up, you leaned into her, feeling the muscles of her core, the rise and fall of her chest. You could have stayed there forever, but then your bra was unhooked and there were more pressing matters to attend to. 

     She gently pushed you back down with a hand on your shoulder and cupped a breast. Her eyes met yours as she stroked her thumb across the sensitive skin. You still couldn’t believe this was really happening. Her other hand slid into your pants, fingers parting curled hair. You wouldn’t have wished it to be happening any other way. She played across your lower lips, finding your slick almost immediately. Though maybe a kiss wouldn’t be out of place. A swipe across your entrance, your hips canted into the attention. You wanted to ask her to pull you into a deep, passionate kiss right then. She pulled her hand back out, first two fingers coated. You wanted to ask her to kiss and bite your neck until you were blue and purple with bruises and lipstick. She brought her hand to her mouth, maintaining eye contact, and sucked her fingers. A bolt of arousal strong enough to be painful shot through you.You wanted to ask her to fuck you until you couldn’t see straight. You didn’t ask her any of these things, letting her take you on her own terms. The pop her lips made when she pulled her fingers out of her mouth told you you might not have to.

     She moved her hand to your other breast, running the wet fingers over its peak. You pulled your shoulders back, pressing into her as she kept stimulating you. Your head rolled back on the pillow as each touch started sending stronger pulses along your body, culminating sublimely at your core. You needed to be touched, further down, right now. You keened your hips up against hers as she straddled you, whimpering as she tweaked a nipple. She shifted off and you helped her remove your pants and soaked underwear.

     You felt bare against her still clothed body, but there was something uniquely and undeniably exciting about being undressed by a woman who had ended lives with her bare hands, something you felt even more acutely as she pushed apart your thighs and settled between them.

     She wasted no more time. With two fingers she again dropped her hand to your slick and ran slow circles around your clit, making you gasp in relieved ecstasy. It was not long before she was inside of you. You yelped, hands reaching above your head to grab onto the pillowcase as your hips rolled with her thrusts.

     “Amélie, your…” you panted, a moan catching you mid sentence as she hit a spot that made your body sing.

     “Say that again,” she whispered, still short of breath herself.

     “What?”

     “My name. Say my name,” she said, moving her second hand to attend your nub again.

     “Amélie!” You cried out, toes curling, and she pumped faster. “Oh my god, Amélie, your fingers are  _ so _ long.” You idly let go of the pillow with one hand to catch a nipple between two fingers and rolled it, just for that extra kick. Your climax was building rapidly, a brilliant pressure that bloomed just below your waist as sweat started to form in the crook of your spine. Lacroix continued to show no clear expression on her face, but her eyes burned into yours with an intensity that had your heart thrumming in your chest. You almost thought you saw a smile of challenge creep into her lips before your eyes were rolling up along with your head, baring your throat to a cool draft as she easily slipped in a third finger. Every pump sent a spark through your stomach, every press on your clit had you tensing around her and you were caught between the two sensations, unable to move, speak, or breathe. You barely got her name out one more time before your climax hit you like a high caliber bullet. 

     You were lost for a moment, not sure you were still bodily extant. Your lungs hurt with the breath you pulled in. Then all at once, you were crashing down to Earth again, body burning with white hot fire that felt resplendent as it centered itself on your core. Hot, full-body waves of pleasure began to douse you as you rocked against Amélie. She did not let up, working you through the experience even as you hooked your legs behind her back in rapt appreciation. Your hips finally slowed to a stop- from exertion more than expiration- and she slid gently out of you, allowing you to readjust as your sensitive walls still pulsed deeply. You lifted your head weakly, only to see her suck her fingers clean again, and you let it drop with a thump back onto the pillow.

     “Wow,” you breathed. Every atom of your body hummed.

     “You are taking up too much room,” Lacroix said, and she unceremoniously tipped you onto your side. She lay down next to you, facing the wall so you were each looking the opposite direction on the twin bed. If your muscles weren't leaden with pleasure you might have turned over and wrapped your arms around her, but something about her body language told you she didn't want to be touched right now.

     “Merci, merci,” she repeated quietly, pensively, and you drifted to sleep, aftershocks of pleasure still pouring gently through you.

     You woke up in the same position, unsure if minutes or hours had passed. The silvery light of the moon washed the room in a serene glow. You were about to turn on your other side when you noticed something that had your sore muscles freeze in place. Lacroix’s knees were resting in the crook of your own, her hips pressing against your ass. Her hands were clasped together in front of her chest, but what had you not daring to move was the feeling of her forehead pressed into the back of your neck. You smiled at the sweet unconscious gesture, letting yourself breathe easy, confident she would never hurt you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with plot!

     You woke up naked and spread eagle on a twin mattress. The sound of running water drifted to you as you blinked in the early sunlight filtering from a barred window….  _ Oh crap, what did I just do?  _ You sat up, rubbing your eyes. There was a mirror across the room from you. Your hair was bunched and matted on one side of your head. You squinted at an unfamiliar purple mark right over your heart: a lipstick print, Amélie’s shade. You covered your smile with a hand, checking the clock. 6:55 am. You jumped to throw on your clothes, borrowing a hairbrush from Amélie- who was showering before her routine began- and tearing through your tangles. You hadn’t spoken to anyone yesterday, but you had passed Jack Morrison in the halls. You prayed that no one would notice you were wearing the same outfit. At 7 the lock on the door clicked open, and you slipped out as you heard the water in the bathroom turn off.

 

     “You know they call her the Widowmaker for a reason.” Fareeha’s voice floated from the next shower over.

     “Yeah, but. I don't know, she's different now. I can't explain it,” you replied, standing numbly under the showerhead. The two of you turned the water off at the same time, and as you each poked out to grab a towel, Fareeha gave you a disapproving look that said you weren't getting the whole picture. She had encountered you sneaking through the halls as you both made your ways to the locker room. Friends since training, you had been discussing your trist with the Widow for the last 10 minutes as you furiously scrubbed yourself, trying to remove the entire event. Toweled up, the two of you walked to the lockers. You let her lead, observing her muscular shoulders. Once upon a time, you’d spent hours daydreaming about being with Fareeha Amari. You'd never worked up the courage to ask her anything. Now she had a thing for Dr. Ziegler, and as hot as it would be, you certainly didn't have the guts to get in on-

     Fareeha knocked you out of your thought by tapping your shoulder. 

     “Space case,” said a man’s voice. You were suddenly very alert. Jack Morrison glowered at you from the door of the shower room. You clutched your shirt to your chest.

     “I asked what you're doing here so early,” he said.

     “I uh. My shower at home, it. Broke,” you answered less than confidently. Jack’s eyes flicked once to your clothes, narrowing for a moment, but he was a busy man and turned to walk out the door after finding your answer sufficient. You breathed a sigh of relief.

     “Oh,” Jack said and you sucked that breath back in. He turned. “Angela wants to see you,” he said to Fareeha and left. Your companion stuffed her things hastily back in her locker.

     “Duty calls,” she said to you and dashed out of the room. You sat down heavily on the bench, regret with a sharp pang of loneliness hitting you hard.

     The day passed with little to take your mind off things. The session with Lacroix went smoothly, neither of you giving any inkling of the night's events, except for when you dropped your pen and touched her hand as you both leaned to grab it. There was a spark, and you knew you both felt it. Afterward, you opted for a guard to escort her back to her holding, claiming there was paperwork to be done. You went home a little anxious, and had a nearly sleepless night of tossing and turning and touching yourself.

 

     The door to your office slammed open.

     “A word,” the blonde who busted it in said curtly, crossing her arms. You stared at Dr. Ziegler like a deer in headlights. Fareeha popped her head past the door frame and you put it together. She mouthed “sorry!” and turned to escape, but as the field medic noticed your fervent glances past her, she pulled Fareeha into the room by the collar. She shut the door with a slam.

     “What-” you started, but Dr. Ziegler cut you off.

     “Dummkopf!” she said, pacing your office. Fareeha moved to sit in the chair across from you, avoiding eye contact.

     “I'm sor-”

     “Do you know what you've done?” Dr. Ziegler exclaimed.

     “Yes but-”

     “How many rules you've broken?

     “I underst-”

     “You could be disbarred for this. You could be  _ killed _ for this!” 

     “I don't-

     “And the possible repercussions to her deprogramming?” the doctor stopped short and turned on a heel to face you. The interrogation had you sweating.

     “Habibi, maybe let her get an answer in,” Fareeha cooed, noticing your discomfort. Dr. Ziegler pinched the bridge of her nose and took a breath. You shifted in your seat.

     “My apologies,” she said when she opened her eyes again, but her tone was still severe. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

     “Exactly?” you croaked, face heating. Dr. Ziegler stared back, clear blue eyes blinking impatiently. You swallowed.

     “Well, I wasn’t scheduled for anything that day, but I realized I left my bag in here when I clocked out the night before, so I came back to get it, and Amélie saw me in the hall and asked if we could hold a session real quick, and so we got to the room-”

     “Can we skip to the event, please?” Dr. Ziegler asked tersely. You swallowed and nodded obediently. Fareeha looked embarrassed for you.

     “Well, so, she asked me if she could show me something in her room- and I know what you’re thinking,” you blurted as you saw Dr. Ziegler move to chide you, “but I considered my options. My therapeutic success with her is largely based on trust. She needs to be able to trust me as much as she needs to feel that I trust her, otherwise what difference is there between our work and Talon’s? If I turned her down then, she would have seen that she scares the living shit out of me, and might have made the connection that I’m only working so hard with her because Jack told me to. Our sessions would become uncomfortable for both of us, and she would grow distant and unresponsive. So I went in.” You could see Dr. Ziegler straining to keep a stony face.

     “Well,” you continued. “She said she wanted to thank me for the improvement she's been making.  _ She _ thinks she’s improving, Angela. This is breakthrough level shit,” you said. Dr. Ziegler raised her brows but said nothing. “And as thanks for the work I’ve done she... Well, basically she offered me her body. I refused, of course.”

     “How do you know she wasn’t trying to deceive you?” Dr. Ziegler asked, shifting her weight over one hip. You stared at her, suddenly speechless. You hadn’t even thought about that. A look of genuine concern crossed the healer’s face. Fareeha was looking at her feet. Dr. Ziegler coughed, then said, “sorry, please go on.”

     “Well… she… said she felt something different with me. And she asked me if she could see just what that feeling was, and I mean, that’s my job, isn’t it? Helping her parse her feelings? And then there was this little voice in my head saying: ‘if you don’t do it, she might murder you!’ And then she threw her underwear at my face, and her legs were  _ so _ long Angela, and I couldn’t say no. And then she…” you found the next words getting caught in your throat. 

     “She…?” Dr. Ziegler repeated, leaning in to hear your answer.

     “She made me eat her out.”

     “Can we get less colloquial with it, please?” Dr. Ziegler furrowed her brow as Fareeha snorted. You gave a sheepish shrug that had your friend rolling.

     “Well, it absolutely floored her,” you made a point to keep the pride out of your voice. “I thought that was going to be the end of it. That’s what she thought too, but something happened to her.” Your seat was starting to get warm, you noticed.

     “What do you mean?” Dr. Ziegler asked.

     “After she… completed… something seemed to come over her. Like an extreme emotional response, Angela, not just lust. She‘d implied that she’d been raped under similar conditions in the past. I theorize that she had offered herself to me to protect herself against an event she’d been conditioned to expect, and put control of the situation in her hands for a change. But then all of a sudden, it must have clicked for her that that isn't her life anymore. I had no expectation that she would reciprocate but… she did. Avidly. I think it points to a drastic improvement in her reprogramming. And get this, Angela, for a few minutes after her climax, her cheeks were flushed.”

     “You’re shitting me,” Dr. Ziegler said suddenly. You shook your head. The doctor cracked a smile, surely internally celebrating her achievements.

     “I’ll have to follow up on that,” she said. “It in no way excuses your actions. But… since you were able to explain yourself away so neatly… I guess I won’t tell Jack.” You breathed a sigh of relief.

     “Thank you, Angela. It was a moment of weakness, but I think it could potentially mean a lot to Amélie, for her reprogramming.”

     “Ja… I’m going to have to get pretty creative in my testing to work around your involvement.” By the way she bit her finger, you could tell Dr. Ziegler had stopped listening to you and was already planning out her next experiment in her head. Fareeha nodded a well done to you. “I should begin now,” the doctor said and started out the door.

     “And please, try to keep your pants on next time,” she said, disappearing beyond the frame. You turned back to Fareeha.

     “You told her?” you exclaimed under your breath.

     “Sometimes pillow talk is work talk,” Fareeha shrugged innocently. She was about to say something else when Dr. Ziegler called her name from down the hall and she beat a hasty retreat.

 

     “Are you alright?” Lacroix asked you from her loveseat across the room. You looked up. She glanced to your pen, and your eyes followed her lead. You blushed when you saw the deep teeth marks. You hadn’t realized you’d been nervously biting it that hard. “You seem preoccupied,” she said, crossing her legs. You had to look away. You were feeling awful about what you’d done... what you still wanted to do. Your meeting with Dr. Ziegler kept playing through your head, and just thinking about the woman sitting a few feet from you had your stomach twisting in knots. But you’d come into work today determined to be her bedfellow once more- unable to tear yourself away from the idea, really. It was proving an impossibly awkward thing to ask. A voice kept telling you you were projecting, that it had been an experiment, a one-time thing- that it really should _remain_ a one-time thing, _you idiot!_ But… there were a few more dynamics your professional mind was dying to try out, to see how Lacroix would react… and to an (admittedly selfish) extent test her feelings towards you.

     “Uh…I… it's nothing,” you stammered, swinging your head to the clock. “Wow! 7:30 already, huh? Time sure… flies,” you put your foot in your mouth when you looked back to see her staring openly at you, reading your nerves, her golden eyes nearly bronze in the artificial lighting. You stood up awkwardly and she followed suit. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and you were starting to feel a little sweaty with anxiety, so you turned to leave the room.

     “Should I wait in here? For my escort?” Lacroix asked. You stopped short.

     “No, I…. I have time to take you…. uh… I have time,” you said, turning to her pointedly. At least you hoped it came across that way. She kept her cool demeanor, but you noticed her eyebrow cock just slightly. You walked closely by her side through the hallway, heart hammering away, trying not to look at her.

     You arrived at her door all too soon.

     “Well, bonne nuit,” she said, and stepped around you as you held the door for her. Instead of closing it and leaving, though, you squished yourself between it and the frame, half trying to disappear from whoever might see you by making yourself as small as possible, and half trying to make yourself all that Lacroix would see. When she turned around from taking her shoes off, she almost appeared surprised that you were still there.

     “Was there something else?” she asked. You chewed your lip, all those hours of mental preparation somehow leaving you with shit-all to say.

     “Can… do you mind if I come in?” you asked. She shrugged and nodded.

     “Don’t forget that the door locks. If you want to leave, you have-”

     “I don’t really want to,” you accidentally stepped on her words, speaking too quickly. You could feel the blush spread over your cheeks. This wasn’t going how you wanted. You  _ wanted _ to have smoothly swept her off her feet already.

     “I don’t really want you to leave either,” she said, turning to hide a smile. You put your bag down in the corner of the room, an extra set of clothes just peeping out of the top. “It’s been a few days,” Lacroix said, almost sounding hurt, and you ducked your head in shame.

     “Dr. Ziegler chewed me out after the first time… I had some trouble working up the courage to see you again,” you said, leaning down to stick a hand through your bag, just making sure you remembered everything.

     “Chewed you out? I didn’t realize you were with her sexually,” Lacroix turned and pouted. She was joking, but there was a hint of genuine upset in her eyes like she wasn’t certain, sending out an emotional probe. You jumped to right the situation.

     “Oh, no! I just meant she scolded me. We’re just colleagues… I don’t know if she’d even call us friends, really.” Lacroix looked microscopically relieved, and stepped over to you, close enough to make your heart thud, but leaving enough space that there was a clear boundary. You swallowed your pride and asked her the question that had been eating away at you since you left your house that morning. Your nervous words were simultaneously far too loud and far too quiet.

     “Hey, I brought something for us to try…. It might be a little much… I thought it could be fun, but I’d totally get it if you aren’t comfortable with it, we don’t have to rush-” you stopped babbling with a slight suggestion from Lacroix’s thumb, which she brushed teasingly over your lips. Her hand dropped to your neck and she unbuttoned your shirt down to your breasts. You swallowed a mewl as she bent her head to run her tongue along your collarbone. You brought your hand to your mouth to bite your knuckle, trying to stay quiet as the facility wasn’t totally shut down outside her room yet, a seemingly impossible task as she pressed her teeth against your skin. She grabbed your wrist to help her unbutton her own shirt, pulling back from you as you slid it off of her shoulders, both watching as it fell to the ground.

     Suddenly she threw you away from her, into the corner of the room. It was a surprise, but man did it get you hot. You bared your neck, prepared for her to meet you roughly over there, but to your confusion, she pulled the chair from her desk towards the center of the room and grabbed a hairbrush.

     There was a knock.

     Your heart stopped.

     “Come in,” she said, her voice perfectly level, just the right amount of unsuspecting without sounding scandalous. You pressed yourself against the wall, right next to the door. The knob turned and the door was pressed open, then reflexively pulled nearly shut.

     “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t dressed,” Jack Morrison’s rough voice seeped in, dousing you in shudders of fear. This couldn’t be riskier. You stared wide-eyed at Amélie in infinite wonder as to how she could be sitting calmly brushing through her long, sleek hair.

     “It’s alright, Jack, I won’t bite,” she said. He opened the door a little more and you ground your teeth.

     “I just wanted to check in, see how you’re holding up,” he said. You were close enough to hear him scratch his stubble, undoubtedly embarrassed to catch Amélie shirtless.

     “Don’t worry, I haven’t figured out how to get the bars off of the window yet,” she said, a coy smile playing on her lips. She was joking freely with him, which was great. When she’d first been captured she was largely nonverbal, especially towards people she had known before the incident.

     “That’s good. Well, you’ve got a panel with the higher ups tomorrow. They’re gonna check whether or not you’re still an asset, but judging by how far you’ve come already, I wouldn’t worry at all. I’ve already put in a number of good words for you, and so has your therapist. It’ll be a boring few hours, but it’s better than having Ziegler stick needles into you, right?” he chuckled. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said and closed the door. You heard the automatic lock engage not a moment later. You sank to the ground, knees suddenly buckling as you let out the breath you’d been holding. Amélie laughed.

     “A close one,” she said and pushed the chair under the desk. She slid her pants off while you got your bearings back.

     “A little too close,” you replied, watching your hands shake. She reached down to grab them and helped you up. Once on your feet, she pulled one of your hands down to press against her crotch. Your brow shot up as she leaned to rest her chin on your shoulder.

     “Well, now that I know a little more of what to expect, I think I’m comfortable with just saying ‘take me,’” she whispered into your ear, her breath sending waves of heat over your face. You smiled into her neck, feeling her _ almost _ -body-temperature heat, her wetness, as you reached your free hand to unhook her bra. You pulled your other hand away to help walk her to the bed, but not without dragging your fingers against her crease first. She fell gracefully onto her back and you quickly slipped her panties off. As you stood up again, you froze. 

     Widowmaker was lauded for being beautiful, a true femme fatale in every sense of the trope. But here, bared in front of you and absolutely vulnerable, with the silvery moonlight washing over her pale blue skin and illuminating her golden eyes… Widowmaker may have been beautiful, but Amélie was _ethereal_ _.  _ You ate her up with your eyes: her sharp collar bones, her soft, well-formed breasts, purplish nipples hardened against the air in the room and her obvious arousal. Her stomach was flat and clearly toned- it took all your will not to run your hands and tongue over it and just stand and observe its light rise and fall. Her thighs, long and thick with corded muscle from a successful career as a ballerina, you’d already been acquainted with, but they still added a powerful majesty to the sight. Between them, a delicious scruff of dark hair cropped up, flattened slightly from the day's wear. As your eyes fell on it, it rolled upwards with her hips as she shifted with impatience. You shook your head, reminding yourself that you couldn’t stay in that moment forever- she was a very real person, and this was very really happening. Again. It would take a while to get used to how lucky you suddenly were.

     You shucked off your clothes and ran a hand from her knee to her inner thigh as you slid over her on the bed. She spread her legs apart as you rested your knee in between them. Your hand found its way to her clit and light touches turned to tight circles turned to you maybe too eagerly panting over her as you ground yourself into the thigh she shifted against you. You had been working yourself up for this meeting for almost a week, and the feeling of bare skin on bare skin was divine, even despite the below average temperature she ran. She was an assassin world renowned for her beauty, and for the moment, she was all yours. You took a chance and ducked your head, dropping your mouth to her breast to glide your tongue against a nipple. Before you could get too far into that, she huffed and put her hands on either side of your face. You stopped still, mid grind.

     “Maybe not so fast, wasn’t there something you wanted to show me?” she cooed, and you shot up.

     “Oh, right,” you said, a little embarrassed by her obvious deflection. You pulled yourself away reluctantly, your core complaining at the sudden omission of stimulation, and walked back over to your bag. You stuck your hand deep into it, digging around in flush pockets until you touched what you were searching for. A funny little thing that you'd bought the week after you met Fareeha. You pulled your hand back out, holding a modest purple strap-on. Propped on her elbows to see, Amélie’s eyes widened when you turned back to her.

     “I… if you want to…” you said, words faltering. The item felt like a ten-ton weight in your hand as you both stared at it.

     “Yes,” Amélie finally whispered. “Yes, but I want you to do it.” You nodded to her and stepped soundlessly back to the bed. You were already plenty wet, a light sheen on Amélie’s leg was proof of that, and the smaller end slipped into you with no protest other than a muffled groan from your own mouth. You could feel the coil of a climax reigniting itself at the new pressure, but you steeled yourself against it to hold out for Amélie. You secured the straps to your hips and helped her push herself further onto the bed. Hands resting on her knees as you both stilled you felt more like a doctor than a lover. Which, was admittedly true. Doubt pinged through your chest for a moment- maybe you’d been too forward. What was the rule about second dates? But the way she looked at you, her eyes trusting and eager, quelled your apprehension.

     You slid into her slowly, easily, letting her adjust. Your heart fluttered, finding her ready for you; you didn’t think you could have lasted if you’d had to warm up. She held her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. As you rolled your hips away from her, she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. Your next thrust brought your hips together. She gasped with want, though you were still keeping a slow pace. The way the toy tugged against you suggested it would take a miracle for you to keep yourself from dropping over that edge way too soon. You set your pace, steady but not too hard, lip clenched between your teeth to ground yourself. Each cry that came out of her mouth felt like warm honey in your ears that seeped down your chest and pooled in your stomach. Her heels brushed your calves, your thighs, your ass, as she tried to open herself up and give way to you, her hands grasping your back desperately. You realized she probably hadn’t been attended so thoroughly in a number of years and breathed a sigh of relief that she might not even last as long as you. Each thrust sent a thick blossom of pleasure through you, an insistent call from that spot below your stomach that was becoming very, very hard to ignore. You swallowed your own whimpers as hers rose in volume, biting your tongue when her fingernails pulled their way down your shoulder blades. Your eyes widened when you felt her hand determinedly brush against your breast. That twisting pressure was building inside you maddeningly, and you felt yourself start to slip at the first sensation of her fingers pinching your nipple. You clenched hard around the toy, breathing through your nose.

     “A-Amélie,” you groaned, voice rough against your inhibition. She tossed her head back into the pillow, pulling on you accidentally in a way that made your mind shriek with pleasure. Before you could get out a “wait” her wrist was twisting, so painfully  _ perfect _ , and you were gone.

     You wanted nothing more than to crash your hips against her senselessly, erratically, ruthlessly. But somehow, holding back and keeping a steady pace pushed your climax to be even deeper and stronger than you expected. Your body shaking, you pressed your forehead into her breastbone to let out a loud and breathy moan that had her humming in kind as strong throbs of completion coursed through you.

     “Wait,” she breathed as you struggled to drag yourself out of that ocean of foggy bliss. You pulled out to pause, groaning as the toy shifted against your extra sensitive walls, still not quite down from your high, but instantly impressible to her needs. You were about to ask if you’d hurt her when she pushed your chest away from her and pulled her legs to one side of you to roll onto her stomach. Hands gripping the headboard and rear raised to you on shaking knees while you stared dumbfounded, she chittered at you to keep going. You slung yourself over her back, the angle only slightly awkward, and did not struggle to find your mark. Though fatigued, you attended her at an advanced pace now, her keening cries compelling you forward. The object hurt a little as it rubbed against you, but that sensation was quickly replaced with a hot coil of need that began to wind itself around you once again. Your thighs smacked against hers as you worked her along, watching her knuckles go white as she clutched the bed. Her back was beautifully muscled- not instantly indicative of raw power like Fareeha’s, perhaps, but sculpted and taut with the position she held herself in.

     You became entranced by a tattoo of a black widow spider that sat, as though waiting specifically for you to fall prey, between her shoulder blades. Afraid to use your tongue again, your traced your thumb up along one of its lower legs, sweeping the pad along her cool skin. She arched her back at the touch, and you could feel her start to tense against the toy. From the spider, you dragged your hand along her ribs, dropping it under her to grab her breast. Approaching the brink again, you didn't waste time with fine movements and strategic pinches, instead grasping hungrily, only making sure the ball of your hand grazed her peak occasionally. 

     Her arms shook and gave out, she dropped her head on the pillow and balled her fists in the sheets. You had to pull your hand further down her body to keep an effective range of motion, and set out instead for the tight ball of nerves between her thighs that hadn't seen quite enough action this evening. You groped around for a minute, finding it hard to maintain both a rhythm and your fine motor skills, especially where you couldn't see. You let out a breath when you finally found the bud, so swollen it felt almost like a pearl under your fingers. A flick across it earned you a yelp from Amélie, a few lazy circles had her mouth open in a silent scream. Her head was tilted to the side, and when you paused, she opened her eyes. You looked at each other in a moment that seemed to freeze time. Then you smirked and brushed your fingers against her, hard. Her body jerked and you caught a glimpse of a smile on her lips before she turned her head to press her face into the pillow. You rubbed her in earnest now, her hips rolling along with yours as her moans crescendoed, muffled by the pillow. You moved your knees and finally found the perfect angle in your new position, one that had the toy pressing against a sweet spot inside you as well as your clit, each new thrust driving you right back towards that edge. Oh, you were so close, if she could just hold out a little bit longer…. Evidently, as you shifted slightly, you hit her just right, too. You felt her convulsions suddenly ring through the item connecting you, and the howl that came out of her mouth through the pillow send a blast of pleasure up your spine. You knocked your hips against her, both riding her through it and trying to push yourself that extra few inches, but to your dismay, her hips stopped bucking before you could reach your end. You deflated a little as you pulled out of her. While she regained her energy and turned back over, you rid yourself of the strap-on, placing it on the bedside table just a little forlornly. She sat up on the bed and you sat back down, straddling her lap, locking eyes with her.

     “Did you…?” she panted. Her cheeks were almost rosy as you ran your thumb across one.

     “Yeah, but… early,” you said sheepishly, similarly out of breath. “But it's totally fine, don't even worry about it, I… I mean just seeing you… feeling you against me… It was enough.” 

     “It’s been a long time since I’ve been satisfied like this… I could at least repay you the favor.”

     “Hey, don't feel like you have to do anything,” you said, putting your palms out in front of you.

     “But I want to. Taste you.” She grabbed your wrists and placed your hands on the headboard.

     “I… oh…” Your faces were inches apart as she pulled you over her. She looked at you, her pupils dilated, blinking slowly before she smiled and slid down the bed. Her hands found your ass and guided you towards her mouth. You scooted forward and she settled her elbows inside your knees. Your stomach caved in with surprise and gratification as she didn’t start off slowly. Her tongue pressed hard, long strokes against your sex and you dug your nails into the wood of the bed as she hummed contentedly against you. Suddenly her lips were around your clit and you were whimpering as she sucked hard, sending impossibly strong bolts of pleasure through you, obviously aware of how tender you were, obviously getting you back for last time. She pressed a smile against you and you brought one hand down to run through her hair. By now your mind was foggy with stimulation and fatigue, and you had trouble trying not to rock your hips too hard. The hand you’d left in her hair bunched into a surprised fist as she thrust her tongue inside you. She grunted in approval, flicking against your walls, and you cried out her name and a couple of curses. Her legs were long, her fingers were long, and her tongue similarly left nothing to be desired. You pressed your forehead against the cool wall. Your mind drifted to her name. Amélie. It tasted good on your tongue. Her response to hearing it was somewhat puzzling. You tried it out as she fucked you deeply with her tongue. Her grasp on your ass tightened. You released her hair and brought your hand to your nipple. Your rational mind dissipated, giving yourself over to the assassin and her tongue, caught between your own stimulation and hers. She pressed herself into you. Your mind was just flashes of concepts mingled with pulls back to reality as the femme fatale pressed her teeth against your nub for a moment. Your climax crashed into you.

     “Ah, fuck, Widowmaker!” You blurted as you came, white spots twinkling behind your eyes. She drew her tongue out of you, pressing it to your clit, letting you grind lightly against her. Your breath came in gasps, and you wanted to see her eyes, but she had them closed, her brow slightly furrowed. Your body still pulsed as she helped you slide off of her.

     “God, that was... thank you,” you breathed, settling next to her. There was an essence of forced intimacy from the small bed, but her muscles felt relaxed as you wrapped your arms around her, laying your head on her breastbone to listen to her slowed heartbeat. She hummed in response. You lifted your head, suddenly compelled.

     “I want to kiss you,” you said, lids heavy as you looked at her. You wanted to taste yourself on her lips, and finally pop that awkward divide between the two of you.

     “Hm. No,” she said.

     “Ok,” you said, and tucked your head back into her chest. You lay like that for a few blissful minutes.

     “Desolé,” she said, nearly startling you, and rolled out from your grasp. She got up off the bed and made her way into the bathroom, which made sense. You grinned pridefully to yourself as you saw her legs were shaky. You shut your eyes as she shut the door, and immediately fell asleep.


End file.
